


memento mori

by ghostblade



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Canon Compliant, Gen, Not RPF, Not a ship fic, because they're both weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostblade/pseuds/ghostblade
Summary: every end marks a beginning, and thus every beginning marks the end. there is always a 'before.'the dream smp, but as told in the form of mythology by a future generation (inspired by the tales of the smp: the lost city of mizu where the smp members are akin to deities, but with less historical inaccuracies)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	memento mori

_ Red raw and empty upon my birth,  _

_ A stranger to sky, sea, and earth,  _

_ My mother spoke her primitive words  _

_ And sowed the seeds of knowledge of hers.  _

_ She held me to her face, her babe,  _

_ Rose me up on full display,  _

_ And to strangers, lovers, enemies and friends,  _

_ She announced “all beginnings start at the end.” _

_ And never were there words spoken  _

_ So true and parabolic; a betoken _

_ Of the workings of this mortal realm _

_ And how indeed it came around.  _

_ For it is known our world did start _

_ With a dragon slewn, sword through its heart _

_ And ‘pon that collision, a light did distend _

_ The New Age was announced; achievement The End. _

_ And thus with logic one can suppose _

_ That before harmonious balance rose, _

_ Did exist a world of chaos supreme; _

_ Ironically enough, it named itself Dream. _

_ And we know its stories deep and well _

_ Disguised as parables and fairytales; _

_ ‘Til now unwritten but known as true, _

_ Lose yourself in our history: I bid you adieu. _

* * *

There once existed a world that had never known an ending; The End was a fragile thing, unknown and foreboding, its power feared, for there once existed a world composed of beings with the capability to wield it. It was a world of chaos: the sky, the sea, the land, had not yet been separated, and they mingled together with a ferocity that bore a thousand storms, consecutive and destructive, apocalyptic in nature. It marked the end of this tumultuous war of the natural, and thus from death, new life was born. With the final strike of lightning upon a supposed damned land, the elements collided in a final battle, and from the electrical spark of finality rose a being. 

I have heard every account of this tale possible I am sure; I sailed the oceans, I scoured different lands, realms, worlds, in the pursuit of knowledge, and never once did I find anything conclusive. For while the tales remain strikingly similar in nature, the description of The First One, the initial life breathed into existence, is contradictory in all natures. Many aspects of the tales I’ve heard, the ones I am preserving for the benefits of you, reader, and your descendents, are conflicting, contradictory, and transient in nature; this fluidity of knowledge is description appears to me poetic in nature. So we’ll call him a shapeshifter, or perhaps we’ll leave him faceless; perhaps it is not for me, but for you to decide. Call it a puzzle: I’ll feed you some pieces, basic building blocks or clay you can shape as you please. 

In my dreams he appears fluid, transient, shapeshifting. There is green, there is a white mask, and there is always a smile, as though carved by a child. Some say he lives on in dreams, that when the End came, he relegated himself to the safest place he could, and found himself trapped within the plains of sleep and imagination. So we’ll call him Dream. (Perhaps you know him. Perhaps he exists within you and I. I suppose it is not for me to know or decide; I am, after all, merely a poet - a vessel of the unknown and the divine.) 

  
And thus, with a strike of electricity and a seemingly impossible event at the end of the War of Nature, does our story begin. Like all poetry, divinity, and magic of our world, it began with a Dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! this is just a short prologue so far but i'm super excited for this little project of mine. if you have any questions or thoughts please comment (it is the best part of writing) or ask me directly on tumblr @/ghostblaade!


End file.
